Raindrops
by Wingscutdarkness
Summary: "Holy shit. You actually shut up for once." [Rodrick/Greg Slash] Oneshot.


**Random story is random.  
****But I found it buried deep in the fanfiction section of my google docs, and I was like, "Hey, this one is actually finished!" ****._.**

**Warnings: INCEST, slash (guyxguy), brief language...**  
**Pairing: Rodrick/Greg**

* * *

The prospect of walking home in a rain storm wasn't all that appealing.

Just as he was resigning himself to getting completely soaked, out of nowhere Rodrick's van was pulling up in front of the school, and Greg's heart was unexpectedly jumping. Purely out of surprise and relief of course.

A few minutes later he was sitting beside his older brother, watching the rain smear across the windshield, and listening to the tinny echo as it hit the rusty roof of the van.

Then they started arguing, which happened a lot, but more often when they were alone together. And as stupid as the argument was, they had both gotten well worked up. Greg so much that he just _had_ to mutter an insult under his breath when they got home and Rodrick cut the engine.

His sneakers splashed into the small streams of water trickling down the driveway as he jumped out into the rain, feeling slightly triumphant. Confident that he had won, and that the argument, whatever it had been about, was over.

Then Rodrick slammed his door shut and came stomping around to the other side of the van, obviously not able to handle not getting the last word in.

Greg rolled his eyes, not even bothering to struggle as Rodrick grabbed his upper arm. He expected his brother to spew something nasty, maybe yell a bit, and then saunter away in that obnoxious cocky way of his. What he didn't expect was for Rodrick to dig his fingers into his arms so much that it _hurt_.

Sure, they had been getting on each other's nerves a lot lately, and maybe Greg didn't exactly know when to stop pushing buttons, but Rodrick had never really gotten _angry_. More like...fake angry. And usually after that, he was 'fake' punching Greg, and Greg was running off to find Mom, and then the fight most likely ended there.

Something had obviously bothered Rodrick this time, because he was pushing Greg up against the van with aggression that seemed out of place for such a dumb argument. Greg was so taken aback that he almost forgot to struggle. He shivered in discomfort, blinking against the sting of rain. His wrists were trapped between Rodrick's hands and the cool metal of the van, and Rodrick's knee was digging into his upper leg.

"Get off me!" Greg tried to squirm away but Rodrick was heavy; too strong for Greg to push him off even if his hands had been free.

"Baby."

"You're such a big jerk, Rodrick." Greg said loudly, not quite able to hide the small tremble in his voice. "I didn't do anything to you, and now I'm getting all wet. Mom's gonna be mad at us, and it's all your fault-"

Rodrick surged forward, as if fuelled by a sudden strong dislike for incessant talking.

Greg's heart started pounding loud enough to block out the soft noise of the rain. He tried to clench his hands at his sides, like that would somehow accomplish what struggling couldn't, even though he knew better. It seemed like he wasn't in control of anything right then. Nothing in him seemed work properly, certainly not the part of his brain that should have been screaming at him to be kicking, hitting, struggling, or _something_.

He felt Rodrick smirk before he moved away and let go.

"Holy shit. You actually shut up for once."

Unable to fully comprehended what had just happened, Greg slumped slowly to the ground and sat there, finding himself in both a literal and mental mess.

Rodrick stepped back a little, reaching up to first wipe the rain out of his eyes, then slowly drag his hand across his mouth.

Greg managed to blink, but not much else. Cold seeped up from the ground and his clothes grew more plastered against him with every falling raindrop. Fragments of questions and other things were racing through his mind at rapid speed, but he was too stunned to find a way to form them into complete thoughts. Nothing about what had just happened made sense, no matter how hard Greg willed his brain to come up with something logical and spit out an explanation.

"R-Rodrick," he managed to stutter, "you...you just-"

"Get up." Rodrick extended a hand toward him, like what had just happened was nothing. _No big deal._

Greg was hyper aware that if he touched Rodrick again, Rodrick would probably be able to feel how freakishly fast his heart was beating. He didn't move, and Rodrick eventually let his hand drop back to his side.

His shoulders hunched against the rain, Greg watched his brother turn and walk up the driveway and into the house.  
He didn't know how long he sat there, his back leaning against Rodrick's van, and his sneakers getting soggy, but it seemed like forever. He eventually picked himself up and went inside, feeling more than a little out of sorts.

Just like he thought, his mom _was_ mad, mostly about the water running off of him and onto the floor. Greg blinked as she came over and started asking him what he was doing outside for so long, and doesn't he know that he can get sick, and why on earth would he leave the house without an umbrella on a day like this, etcetera, etcetera.

Greg shivered in his wet, cold, and soggy clothes and mentally groaned at the barrage of questions.

Behind them, Rodrick smirked, quietly got up from where he was sitting at the kitchen table, and snuck upstairs and to his room, droplets of water dripping off the cuffs of his jeans and glistening on the floor.


End file.
